The Sorting Hat Switch
by Colorain
Summary: The Sorting Hat has its reasons. There is some reason I have been sorted into this house, even though I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.
1. Welcome, Madriga

****

The Sorting Hat Switch

By Colorain

Disclaimer: Quite obviously, nothing actually belongs to me concerning Harry Potter, although my initials actually _are_ JKR and I could have a lot of fun with that. The Lottenbys and the Harpers are mine, and I'm assuming basics on the plot are mine as well. Otherwise, it's JKR's! ;)

Author's Note: This is a very old premise for a story I had starting about a year ago. It's probably been done before, and in a fandom approaching fifty thousand stories, I'm sure the concept's popped up more than _once_. If it has, know I'm not plagiarizing merely because the chances of me finding such another fic among the throng are little to none. As it is, this story is supposed to contain four core characters, although I only introduce two here. It might end up being entirely from Madriga's point of view, with excerpts from other characters. I don't rightfully know. I'm going to have to work on any feedback I get from this (and hopefully I'll get _some_!). Enjoy!

~*~

The Sorting Hat has its reasons.

This is what I have been telling myself for the past few weeks of my first term at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There is some reason I have been sorted into this house, even though I can't for the life of me figure out what it is.

Perhaps the Sorting Hat is wrong. But I doubt it. It's me, isn't it. The Sorting Hat is trying to tell me something.

I just wish I knew what it was.

~*~

Madriga Lottenby, the Slytherin mudblood. Don't ask me how it happened. Finding out I was a witch was strange enough. No one in my family ever showed any inclinations of the magical kind, except me. The only decent trick any one of us Lottenbys could pull was disappearing whenever it was our turn to wash the dishes. And I don't really think that counts.

My parents were supportive, though, of course. They couldn't _deny_ that I was a witch, since that would have started all kinds of trouble, I'm sure. I find denying things often gets you into a lot of trouble. Like the time I denied sneaking around in my brother Rufus' room. He believed me until I made the unfortunate slip-up of commenting on his extensive toy collection in front of his friends. _I_ shouldn't have known, to be fair, but I thought he would have at least told his friends. Seventeen is a bit old to be collecting _children's_ toys, I think, and play with them as well, but I'm not one to say he shouldn't. Only that he ought to be more open about that sort of thing, because goodness knows I am. I'm not afraid to tell my friends about things like that, because I know they won't mock me. Maybe I'm just a tad babyish, but there's nothing wrong with that.

But, honest, I _forgot_. Rufus had been particularly nasty to me that morning. He had dropped poor Doris' tail in my milk glass at breakfast when I wasn't looking. Doris screeched like the dickens and jumped off the table, upsetting Daddy's bacon and toast. Of course, that got Daddy started on how Doris shouldn't have been on the table in the first place — really, I don't think it's _her_ fault that the tablecloth is so comfy. Well, at least I _suppose_ that the tablecloth is comfy, I wouldn't know — I'm not a cat.

Anyway, Doris knocked over Daddy's breakfast and I _obviously_ couldn't drink my milk after _that_ — that morning was ruined. When Rufus' friends came over, it just sort of popped out.

I tend to forget the things I'm supposed to remember. Oh dear, have I mentioned that already? I'll bet I have. It's just like me to do something like that.

I'm terribly off-topic, aren't I? Rufus isn't really as important in this story as I make him out to be, and Doris comes in more later . . . Back to Hogwarts, then.

I got my acceptance letter around mid-July. At first I thought that was rather odd, seeing as I hadn't applied to Hogwarts in the first place, but Mum thought my being a witch was application enough. I ended up going to Diagon Alley with one of my neighbors, Anna Harper. Her entire family is made up of witches and wizards, I think, although I obviously didn't know until she told me that she was one too. Mum and Daddy were pretty puzzled as for how to take me wizard-shopping, but Anna just showed up at our door one day, mentioned she had seen my owl, announced that she, too, was going to Hogwarts, and wondered if her family could be of any assistance to me.

Bother, that was a rather long sentence.

Anyway, Mum was grateful, but Daddy was still a little leery: the whole idea that magic really existed and his daughter had some was, I imagine, somewhat mind-boggling. It was to me, too, but I _had_ to deal with it. 

I made friendly chitchat with Anna as we wandered Diagon Alley trying to find all of our supplies. Even though we only lived four doors apart and went to the same school, we had never really become friends. I suppose it's because she's so different than I am: much more outgoing and brave. I mean, _I_ certainly wouldn't have gone and stood on her doorstep announcing I was a witch. I almost wish I could be like her. Almost, because I simply don't think bravery suits me.

"D'you suppose I could bring Doris along as my pet?" I asked as we left the robe shop, lugging our purchases beside us.

"Who's Doris?" Anna inquired. 

"My cat." I explained to her how I was worried that Doris wasn't magical, and so they might not let her in. Besides, I didn't want to leave her with Rufus, because he'd probably torture her even more with me gone.

Anna bit her lip for a moment. "How long have you had her?" she asked me.

"About five years." I didn't tell her that she had come to us as a stray, or anything like that. She might think we simply didn't have the money to buy a cat, and I didn't want her to think bad things about me so soon after getting to be friendly.

"Well, she's probably picked up some of your magic in that time. I think she'll be all right." I smiled in relief. I didn't _want_ to buy another pet if I didn't have to. Wizard money was confusing enough as it was, and Anna didn't need an animal for herself. She wasn't bringing one.

We managed to catch up with Anna's mum and dad and older sister Margaret after looking through Ollivander's Wand Shop. It took us both quite a while to get our wands. Just as we thought one was it, the magic fizzled out and we'd get stuck holding a new one.

"I think I've got splinters in my hand," Anna complained half-heartedly as she rubbed at her wand hand.

"Yes," I smiled, "but do magical splinters hurt more or less than regular ones?" My own hand was cramped and sore, but blessedly splinter-free.

"Blasted if _I_ know!" Anna retorted, and we fell into a comfy silence.

When Mr. Harper spotted us, he grinned and waved us over. "So, girls, give any thought as t'what houses you'll be sorted into at Hogwarts?" he asked with a wink. "I was a Gryffindor, myself. Your mother a Ravenclaw. Mag's in Ravenclaw as well. Always _did_ take after her mother, I must say." He gazed at Mrs. Harper with love in his eyes and they shared a smile.

Anna was quick to jump in with her opinion. "_Not_ Slytherin — and probably not Ravenclaw either. _What_, Mum, you know I'm not all studious like Mag!" she protested when her mother narrowed her eyes at her in mock maternal anger. "And out of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor — well, probably Gryffindor. I'm too outgoing and obnoxious t'be a badger."

"That's my girl!" Mr. Harper said approvingly, and we all shared a laugh. Then he turned to face me. "What about you, Madriga?"

I felt myself begin to blush. I wasn't used to strangers being so nice to me — almost like my own non-magical family back at home.

"You . . . you have to remember I don't know much about the wizarding world." I stuttered. Mr. and Mrs. Harper nodded encouragingly. Continuing, I said, "I don't suppose I'm mean enough t'be in Slytherin — not that _everybody_ in Slytherin is mean, I'm sure — but I don't think I've got the personality for it. And not Gryffindor either. Haven't the courage. I'm scared of my own shadow." The Harper family laughed again at my weak attempt for a joke. I smiled shakily. "Hufflepuff, probably. I think badgers are cute."

At this, Mr. Harper burst into a hearty chuckle. "Quite a mouthful we got out of you, Madriga!" Sobering, he kept talking. "But really, child, some of the most loyal people you'll ever meet come out of Hufflepuff. It's a good choice, not that you've got one! All up to the Sorting Hat in the end."

Anna and I smiled at each other. Though I doubted we'd ever be best friends, we were now more than just neighbors. We were going to attend a real magic school — we were going to grow up to be real witches!

When I got home later that night, I went to bed almost immediately and dreamed of animals. A badger waved at me cheerily in the distance, but a snake framed the picture. It set the mood for me, really, but how was I supposed to know?

~*~

Madriga Lottenby, the Slytherin mudblood.


	2. Confusions

****

The Sorting Hat Switch

By Colorain

Disclaimer: Quite obviously, nothing actually belongs to me concerning Harry Potter, although my initials actually _are_ JKR and I could have a lot of fun with that. The Lottenbys, the Harpers, the Woodburns and the Martins are mine, and I'm assuming basics on the plot are mine as well. Otherwise, it's JKR's! ;)

Author's Note: This is a very old premise for a story I had starting about a year ago. It's probably been done before, and in a fandom approaching eighty thousand stories, I'm sure the concept's popped up more than _once_. If it has, know I'm not plagiarizing merely because the chances of me finding such another fic among the throng are little to none. Now, one of the major things about this story is that it currently has no central narrator. I'm going to end up writing this thing in first person _and_ third person, four times over. :) Now, I know that's annoying but it's my approach, and if you don't like it . . . well, there's a little button down there where you can "review" and let me know!

The Woodburn family of England is one of the purest wizarding families in the world. We can trace our roots back practically to the beginning of recorded history. So why haven't I, Marissa Woodburn, been rightfully sorted into Slytherin?

Daddy's going to hear about this.

I mean, I'm in absolute awe over this. Everything else was going perfectly. My Hogwarts acceptance letter had come right on time. Not that I'd had any doubt it would come — my entire family _is_ magic, you know.

__

Honestly. Out of all the Houses I _could_ have been sorted into — well, Hufflepuff is the _absolute_ worst, but _Ravenclaw_ is a close second. I mean, the people in there have no life. They actually . . . study for tests, and the like. Really. In films, good guys always win, but in real life? They finish last.

Things have been pretty terrible so far. I think . . . no, I _know_ I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about this . . . abomination. I'm getting put into Slytherin whether he likes it or not.

Blue and bronze aren't even my _colors_.

~*~

Gryffindor. I'm sure you've heard of it — if not, why would you be bothering to read this? Anyway, when I was a little girl I used to think it might be something special, like a dangerous potion, or a mythical beast, or even an illegal Quidditch move. But it's not.

It's my new House at Hogwarts.

I'd honestly always thought I'd be pegged for Ravenclaw. I was always getting academic awards of one kind or the other: Laurette Martin, the Best of the Best. Of the Best.

But obviously not good enough to get into the House that I deserve. The House that deserves _me_.

Ravenclaws . . . Ravenclaws are like me. Not brave. Not adventurous. Content to sit on the sidelines and observe.

I can't be a Gryffindor! I simply do not have the personality.

~*~

I don't remember the train ride to Hogwarts, or the boat ride, or even walking into the school itself. The first thing I can remember is Professor McGonagall calling my name and dropping the Sorting Hat onto my head.

My first test . . . and certainly not my last.


End file.
